Oh, boy. Ooooh, boy. What a summer.
Soooo…somewhere between manically driving to another state, and then working a temporary job, and then getting what was left in my bank account frozen for financial shit that I won’t get into here, and running out of meds and not having a doctor, and cresting into an episode, and being brought back by a group of literal hippies using methods that are definitely not sanctioned by the FDA and I wouldn’t confess over the internet but somehow actually worked, then living off the kindness of people who hadn’t seen/heard from me in a while and being in this weird mental/spiritual place in which I was like “ARE YOU KIDDING ME, UNIVERSE? I HAVEN’T DEALT WITH ENOUGH SHIT THIS YEAR?” but also like, “How is it that these people can be so kind to me???” and also getting into a pretty bad car accident, I…
Got a job. An actual, like, career-type, health-insurancey, fell-into-my-lap-and-BWAHAHAHA-was-I-going-to-say-“Well, I’m not really fit to work right now”?-Hells-no-I-wasn’t-girlfriend capital-J-type Job.
People who know what’s been going on in my headspace have responded in one of three general ways:
1. “Are you insane? Why did they even hire you? You can’t work.”
a. I’m all like, “Welp, what else is a poor fucked over fucker who’s been passed over for EVERY FUCKING HELP IMAGINABLE supposed to do? Homelessness 2.0 again? No, thanks. Thanks for seeing things realistically, and also for offering to help instead of talking out of your ass. And that was sarcasm. Since you’re obviously too stupid to identify it.”
2. “Are you sure this is what you want?”
a. See response 1.a.
3. “I hope it works out!”
a. Me, too!
So that’s where I’ve been, Blogworld. I made an appointment to see a doctor on Day 1 my insurance kicked in and got in to see a shrink pronto and Sweet Baby Jesus Thank You for these drugs. I can sleep again! If you’ve ever done the No-Sleep Shuffle for long enough to start doing that hallucinating thing, you know where I’m coming from. *cries from joy*
Funny how having consistent access to what you need kind of begins to help make the crazy become manageable. Funny how pretty much nothing in society seems set up to recognize this. I’m not precisely well, but I wake up every morning and go to work and do the things (or at least I’m pretty sure I’m doing the things) and no one’s complained about me yet. My coworkers are at the point where they just think I’m a little zany and I know they talk about me (as the humans do, so whatever), but I figure if I can keep this up for another month or two…maybe I’ve actually got a thing? Like, a thing thing, a thing that I could do for a little while. Long enough to qualify for protections like FMLA if my brain goes Nut House on my ass again and I need time off, or disability. Who knows? I might even win the lottery, or find true love.
And maybe I’ll actually get a place to live in the next month or so? This entire venture has been made possible by the excessive generosity of one friend in particular. We have this thing where we trade periods of homelessness and sheltering/feeding each other, oddly enough, though right now I’m winning in the longest-shit-stretch department. Hopefully she gets to keep her functional life going long enough for me to make sense of whatever is happening with mine because if I end up needing to support her for several months I better damn well be able to. She’s been a champ.
We should probably get married.
Anyhow, I lost enough marbles to also lose the ability to write, and just this past week as I was sitting on the toilet (no shit) something in my brain turned back on and was like, “Hey! You have recovered the powers of CREATIVITY!” This is why I’m feeling optimistic. I don’t want to say everything’s all peachy because I’m still dealing with the fallout from this car wreak and the whole getting-my-bank-account-frozen-by-asshats and, oh yeah, lest I forget, I’m going to have to deal with fighting my own brain for the rest of my whole sorry life, but for the first time in over two years I might be on the verdant verge of rejoining society. I might even have a permanent address soon. And yeah, that’s huge.
So here’s a poem.
When you can’t tell if the world or yourself is twisting tighter
All you know is looking-glass distortia
And everything is hateable, at least a little bit,
Accept that the only medicine you have now is quiet breath
In and out
When the anxiety speaks louder than the therapy
And the thoughts are running so fast they begin to trip
Wires, that set off explosions
Of adrenaline, that tremble and shake and threaten to break you
Down, down further than you’ve ever been
Just inhale so deep you might pop and then as it raises you up
Hold on tight
In and out
When it’s dark
You know the dark
The dark that veils day and night and comfort and hope
Forget your eyes
And listen to the sound of cool air rushing
Through your nostrils, down your throat, into your lungs
Release it, and then follow it. It knows the way.
In and out
Again and again
A cycle of wind and smooth pauses
It does what it does whether you notice it or not
Again and again, all day, every day
A special persistence
You can hold it, but only for so long